


lofticries

by thewordweaver



Series: Old Exo Smut I'm Ashamed Of [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M, I feel very ashamed posting this, If You Squint - Freeform, Maybe - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Smut, a dark spot of my past I'd prefer to forget
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8326711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordweaver/pseuds/thewordweaver
Summary: Use your oily fingers; make a paste; let it form.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hiya hello just reposting things that I had deleted from my old old very old asianfanfics account lmao  
> I am very much not really in the kpop scene anymore so these are just here for the sake of being here
> 
> god I fucking hate looking at old smut I've written lmao kms  
> this is some hot shit {more shit than hot} from four years ago but whatever I guess
> 
> date originally posted on aff.com: late 2012  
> {the a/n at the bottom is from then as well NO I'M NOT WRITING A SEQUEL OR A SERIES DON'T EVEN ASK OR BRING THAT UP}

## collect all the liquids off of the floor

 

Her back is to the window as the world outside is a slate grey, brightened by flashes of tinted green. Transparent panes rattle as the soundwaves of thunder slam against them, its boom resonating throughout the house.

Though these are more than enough of a distraction, it does nothing to deter her; her focus on the canvas in front of her is unbreakable; her stare intensifies as she decides carefully on which color to add next.

But this concentration soon falters by no act of nature.

“Good afternoon,” she says simply as she dabs her fingers in a light blue mixed on her palette. “You know, I don’t appreciate it when you get my floors wet.” She turns around to see bistre, almost ebony eyes staring at her, eyebrows on an olive complexion raised in astonishment. “How did you know I was here?”

“With the many times you’ve appeared unannounced, it would actually be more surprising if I  _ couldn’t _  tell that you’re here. Now shoo, you’re gonna soak everything.”

She watches as he disappears in ashen wisps, admiring the way the tendrils swirl around in the air as they fade. To this day, his power never ceases to amaze her.

Just as she starts to turn back around, he reappears in the same place, now dry and sporting a new outfit but still holding a towel in his hand. When he begins to wipe the water from the floor, her attentions return to the work-in-progress, adding more shades and tints to the tarpaulin.

Minutes later, she feels arms wrap around her waist and a chin props itself up on her shoulder. “Kai,” she scolds lightly, glancing over her shoulder at him. “There’s no harm in watching my favorite artist,” he murmurs innocently, a smirk playing upon his lips. She rolls her eyes, picking up her paintbrush from the front of her easel, dabbing it into the cups of paint.

As her paintbrush steadily strokes the portrait, his hands do the same to her skin after having slipped underneath her shirt. With skilled fingers, he causes her to shiver on her stool, nearly making her leave an unnecessary splash on the canvas.

“ _ Jongin _ !” she snaps a little louder than earlier after his actions lead to her body shading her face and neck a soft pink. Acting without thought, her hand reaches up, stained fingers leaving their mark on his cheek after she slaps him gently.

He pulls away in shock from her reaction, placing his hand over his cheek where she had marked him. She herself had turned around to face him, hazel eyes wide as her hands clasp over her mouth. “Well, I did warn you,” she mutters as she slowly lowers her hands, looking away innocently.

She lets out a noise of shock and protest when her auburn hair is pushed aside and she feels cool oils run down her neck, applied there by warm fingers. “What are you—!?” She touches her neck and glances down at her fingertips, a bright cyan coating them. She returns to glaring in question at him.

He merely chuckles as he wipes off the paint on his jeans. “Now we’re even.”

“Oh are we now?”

Swiftly, she reaches behind herself to grab one of the cups, scooping some of it out and flinging it at him. Right after he is hit with it, he vanishes and she is on guard, looking every which way for his retaliation.

Soon paint splatters itself on every surface in the room. The painting on the easel is forgotten, ruined, and yet enhanced by its new features.

“You owe me paint,” she says as they lie down beside each other on newly-speckled linoleum in the aftermath of their war.

They lie in silence for some time as the storm continues to rage on outside, the pair listening to the rain play its melody against the roof and walls.

“How do you do that so well?”

“What?”

“Painting. Your painting. Just yesterday, that canvas was completely blank, but now it’s…”

They both glance over at it.

“Completely ruined and irredeemable.”

“… Well, before our paint fight. It goes from being just some cloth on wood to a beautiful picture in the span of a few hours. Minutes even. How do you do it? Is there some sort of invisible color-by-numbers outline I don’t know about?”

She laughs at his comment, shaking her head as she rolls onto her side to face him. She runs ivory fingers through black hair as she studies his expression. “I wish it was really that easy.” She shakes her head, swirling her finger around in a little puddle of acrylic yellow, pressing her fingerpad to the tip of his nose. “It wasn’t always like that.” She begins sliding her finger along the bridge of his nose, her finger the brush stenciling his face.

“I find that hard to believe.” He grips her wrist and scowls at her, wiping his face off on his shirt sleeve.

Resorting to different means, she lifts up and removes his shirt, outlining his chest instead. She pauses for a moment, continuing when he does not react negatively this time. “It takes practice to get better at defining details and shading properly and things like that… but just as teleportation comes naturally for you, painting is instinctual for me. And it’s really not as hard as you think. Here.”

She stops her detailing to pull off her own shirt, taking his hand and dipping it in paint, pressing his hand to her stomach.

“Paint.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded for a moment, before giving her a skeptical look.

“Paint! Think of me as the tarpaulin—”

“Is that what that thing is called?”

“—and do what you feel is right. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ the result is. Art is art.”

He chuckles softly before shaking his head, using one finger to trail up the side of her waist. She shivers in response, the sharp contrast in the temperatures creating goosebumps. As he creates his portrait, he glances up at her to gauge her reaction, seeing nothing but encouragement in her bright eyes every time.

He switches colors every so often, utilizing the various lakes surrounding them. Venturing further, the coral color he traces up the inside of her thigh causes the same shade to flourish on her cheeks.

Kai smirks, making the decision to take this one step farther.

He reaches behind her and unlatches her bra, his free hand pulling it from her form. Her blush is furious now, but she makes no move to stop him.

He rolls over so that she is pinned down underneath him, eyes glinting as he regards her. They study each other carefully as his uncolored hand skims down the front of her body, tugging her shorts down.

She holds a breath when she feels his hand dip into her panties, shifting around a bit under him and gasping sharply when his fingers brush over her clit. She presses her thighs together, bashful when she is not the one in control, but he uses his other hand to part them, placing his leg between hers so she cannot repeat the action. He leans down, painting her neck with splotches of red and transparent streams as his fingers stroke her gently. Her arms link around his neck and her hips lift off of the linoleum, but he is quick to hold them down.

He continues creating his portrait, collecting colors on his fingers before he runs them down her body: over her rigid ribs, her curved waist, the swell of her hip. The dark pupils that consume the hazel of her eyes entices him as he pulls away from her lips, a smirk forming on his own when she scowls at him for ceasing movement of both hands.

Placing both hands on her hips now, he rolls them over so that she is the one on top. Because the action is unexpected, she lets out a shout, her face centimeters from his, the hairs of the brunette tickling his face and her own. When she sits up a bit, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head curiously at him, he absentmindedly paints a line of chartreuse down the center of her torso, stopping just above her bellybutton. “Painting is nice and all, but I think I should just leave this skill to you.”

She chortles a bit, smiling slightly at him as she collects orange on her fingertips, painting over the outline that has already dried on his skin. She traces clavicles, pectorals, ribs, an abdomen. When her touch reaches the waistband of his jeans, she marks her own skin with the vivid tint before undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. He only gets as far as resting his hands on her hips, harboring the intent to pull off the offending speckled fabric she wears, before she begins to grind her hips against his.

The stream of colorful swears that pour from his mouth are drowned out by the drumming thunder; a smirk appears on her face as she reads his lips, knowing just how she was going to finish this masterpiece. Pausing her slow, sensuous agony momentarily, she finally rids him of the navy denim, one step closer to perfect completion. She continues her excruciating tantalization, reveling in the way her name flows from flawless pink lips.

But even she has her limits to how much she can endure teasing herself as well and she approaches it fast. She peels off the final layer holding him back—gradually, of course—her bright eyes glinting when she feels the way he writhes below her now that the moist fabric torturously teases his cock.

As one last final taunt, she pulls off the dually stained panties as slowly as she possibly can, though she is abruptly cut short by Kai’s quickly increasing impatience and his primal need for her. Once he has thrust into her, with no warning whatsoever, she lets out a breath she had not realized she had been holding and they moan in unison. As revenge for his sudden movement, she rides him hard and fast, more than aware that she was pushing him to the brink of insanity. Before his hands can actually find purchase on her hips, she breaks his hold on her and puts her hands in his, lacing them together as the backs of his hands touch the floor.

It is her turn now to leave stripes of red on his skin, through means of her teeth at his neck. Trailing invisible kisses up to his ear, she purrs his name, moaning raggedly and whining in that way that drives him crazy.

When she hears his own calls grow louder as he approaches that pure white bliss, she switches back to her lazy, building movements; she chuckles breathily in his ear as she imagines the dissatisfaction and frustration on his face. Just as he begins to hiss the word “vixen,” her hips roll in some way that has him keening her name. She herself makes a sound of delighted surprise when his hips suddenly jerk upward, rubbing her in all the right places.

Reasoning that she had put him through enough torment, she returns to the pace she had originally started with. She releases his hands as well, letting him regain a bit of control. She leans over him, mosaic hands splayed on an illustrated chest. Their lips meet seconds later, roseate tongues tasting each other. Her blunt nails leave behind faint ribbons of scarlet on an already picturesque canvas as they drag downward to his abs, the pleasing pain enticing his hips to clap against her faster; soon  _ she _  is the one keening  _ his _  name.

Moments later, her nails dig into his skin as a shudder wracks her body, a blinding white clouding her sight while a sharp, airy cry escapes her throat. He is not far behind her, a choked moan emitting from his lips as hips slam against hers one final time.

As their high wears off, she rolls off of him and curls up against his side. “Let’s move to the bedroom, yeah?” he suggests.

“And ruin our sheets with all this paint? I don’t think so.”

A different idea comes to mind shortly after her reply; in an instant, they find themselves standing in the shower. “Good point. I like this idea better anyhow.”

A plethora of colors swirl down the drain, clearing the canvases that are soon repainted.

**Author's Note:**

> holy hell that took a lot longer to write than I had anticipated  
> also if you guys want a sequel or something {because it did end rather ambiguously} I was considering just making a story that just has exo shots {some fluffy and some... not so fluffy}  
> idk we'll see
> 
>  
> 
> [personal twitter](http://www.twitter.com/lesimperatrices)  
> 


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